


His Master

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-08
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin gets some special lessons from his master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Master

Anakin moved through the darkness like water, his lightsaber cutting brilliant paths that sparked and faded around him. He danced through the first form, warming up slowly with the bone-deep remembered movements. Block, jump, twist... Soft, flowing moves used to defend, never attack. From these basics came the entirety of the Jedi lightsaber technique. Flow, spin, leap.

His muscles loosening with the ease of memory, Anakin started moving into the sixth form. Block, twist, strike... Attacking an invisible opponent, Anakin moved with confidence across the bare, lightless training area, extending his senses through the Force in oder to navigate. He could feel everything through its sharpening strength even though he couldn't see it. The walls smooth and curved, the metal floor lightly textured, his master silent and still.

Anakin slipped into the seventh form, executing the moves flawlessly. Or so he thought.

"Stop."

The command was not loud, nor the tone particularly forceful, but Anakin obediently froze. The tip of his 'saber barely quivered in the stillness. He was stretched out in a deep forward lunge, his lightsaber extended as far as his great reach would give. His muscles, already tired from the intense workout, shivered under his sweaty skin, but he held the position as he waited for his master's correction.

The darkness rippled with his master's movements. Sparks from the lightsaber illuminated his bare chest as he approached. His eyes flashed red as they were caught by the light, then returned to wet shadows. He growled low in his throat as he circled around Anakin.

There was a whisper of cloth, then Anakin's back foot was caught in a sweeping kick. He quickly corrected his stance to catch himself, his back leg set back at an almost painful angle. The insides of his thighs stung with the sudden stress. His master's hands gripped the shoulder of Anakin's 'saber arm, adjusting it roughly to aim a few inches higher. His body was stretched to its utmost.

His master came to stand in front of him again, the tip of the 'saber nearly grazing left of center of his chest, painting the red skin purple in the blue light.

"The heart," his master's voice rang out low and smooth, like a feral growl. "Thirty-seven humanoid species can be killed by destroying the heart. Twenty-nine of those species have a single heart located in their chests. Most other species can be incapacitated through such an attack."

"And the others, my master?"

His master moved around him again, this time gripping his wrist to lean his arm upwards. "The brain. Remove the head, destroy the heart, and kill your target."

Anakin breathed in, feeling the nearness of his master like a lightsaber grazing his skin. He stared ahead at the very tip of his lightsaber, imagining his master standing before him once more, the point at the center of his forehead. The image both exhilarated him and scared him. His master, the most powerful being in the universe, vulnerable at the end of his weapon.

"And you, my master? Would that be enough to kill you?"

A warm, huffing breath next to his ear, like a laugh. "It would be enough to piss me off."

Anakin smiled. He was aware of just how resilient his master was. The fear disappeared, and again he saw his master standing before him in his mind, leaving only the exhilaration. "Yes, my master."

His master moved, standing in front of him but well out off range of his lightsaber. His master's power and strength enfolded him within the Force.

"Continue."

Anakin froze, unsure what he was being asked. "Master?"

"Continue."

Anakin took a moment to take breathe and center himself within the folds of the Force, then he drew his own strength to the surface. The basis of the seventh was emotion--anger, passion, fear. Focused, the powerful emotions gave shape to the movements; unfocused, they defeated the learner. Only in control could one reach mastery. It was the final form, the one Anakin had yet to master.

Anakin took up the first stance of the seventh form. His master's breath whispered through the room, giving Anakin one specific emotion to focus on. He breathed again, focused on it, and began to move.

A sweep of his arm, and a step-kick forward. His lightsaber cut sideways as he entered deadly striking range. With a burst of red, his master's lightsaber crackled to life, just barely connecting with Anakin's as he echoed the maneuver. His movements, always graceful, put Anakin's to shame, serving as perfect example of a combat form effortlessly executed and painstakingly perfected.

Together, they moved as one through the final stances, his master's power flowing into his, feeding his emotions, giving him strength.

Anakin focused on his master's eyes, letting his body go. His muscles remembered the moves, directing his body as Anakin focused his mind on emotion. When he had first seen his master, he had been afraid, then angry at Qui-Gon's death. Now, he knew only passion under his master's touch. His master smiled smoothly, as though he could read Anakin's mind.

They moved, like liquid over stone, like the two ends of his master's lightsaber-- together yet separate, opposite yet the same. It was a fight carefully choreographed into a dance.

Occasionally, their 'sabers would strike, sparking like lightning. Anakin would feel the sympathetic vibration of the touch through his hilt.

Anakin was breathing heavy by the end, not so much from the exertion, but from the heat of his master's eyes as they moved. He raised his 'saber in a salute, which made his master raise his brow.

"I thought our lessons by now would have broken you of your Jedi habits."

"I am merely showing respect for your superior ability."

His master smiled, showing teeth like an animal. "Your displays of respect are usually more creative, and less traditional. "

Anakin smiled widely as well. "This ancient form has awaken the traditional student in me."

His master smiled and, after shutting down his 'saber, bowed to Anakin. Anakin did the same, bowing lower. He stayed, looking down at the floor, until his master came near.

"Impertinent child." His hand was warm on the back of Anakin's head, but he could feel his approval. His actions as a student, as well as an apprentice, had pleased him. There was nothing more important to Anakin than pleasing his master.

Anakin sank to one knee, coming close to his master so that he could feel the fabric of his loose leggings against his face. His master's hand on his neck shifted to draw him up and close, leading his face to where he wanted it.

"Perfect, my apprentice."

Anakin smiled, burying his face against his master's erection. The thick, loose folds of fabric hid it well, but he could always feel it this close, smell his arousal. He unfastened the belt around his master's waist, pushing the fabric aside to reveal his master's erection. The sharp black lines tattooed on his stomach tapered off into delicate lines defining the veins under the smooth red skin. His master's cock was a work of art in flesh and ink, the colors of fire and ash. Anakin cradled the hot flesh in his hand, stroking a few times before pulling the skin back to reveal the soft red skin of the tip.

Passion... Fire... Lust... Anakin breathed in deeply, then sighed. "Master."

It was the only name he had for the magnificent creature who showed him the secrets of the world. Anakin licked his lips, savoring the taste of the name before he savored soft, warm skin. He curled his tongue, tasting and teasing the head before he swallowed his master's cock down to the root.

His master's heartbeat echoed in Anakin's throat, and his own body synced to it, his arousal growing only in response to his master's. this was his world, his place, his meaning. His master. Anakin moved his head, adding both his hands to the task of worshipping his master. Anakin's hands were warm, talented, and strong, well-trained by his master in all matters. The air shivered with a low growl, as close to a purr as his master ever came.

Anakin knew his master's endurance could take them through hours of pleasure, but he needed to feel his master come on his tongue before anything else. He brought all his skills together to push them both over the edge quickly, sharply, suddenly. Anakin shuddered and swallowed.

When his master slowly withdrew his spent cock from his mouth, he bowed his head in respect.

"I am your master."

Anakin looked up at glittering, golden eyes, his heart filled with longing. "Yes. *My* master."

His master's hand stroked the top of his head, then slid down his jaw to cup his chin. His fingers were warm, and comforting. Then his grip tightened, until Anakin thought his jaw would break. Warm wetness streamed down his neck and chest as pain flared along his jaw.

The beloved face of his master twisted, the smooth lines becoming deep fissures in his red face. His mouth spread wide, wider than possible for a Zabrak. His lips split to show off rows of sharp animal teeth.

"I am the master you truly want." His voice was rough, deeper than before, and barely distinguishable from a growl. Fear filled Anakin suddenly.

A wicked howling grew around them, a thousand dying breaths whistling eternally through the room in a freezing, stinking wind.

Anakin struggled, feeling the wind digging into his clothes like claws, shredding it, scouring his skin. His master's eyes, yellow and red, grew large around him, and there was laughter, and screams, and terror. Anakin was lost.

****

Obi-Wan felt a boot in his side. He instantly came awake, his hand reaching for his lightsaber as his mind processed his surroundings. Trees, stars, small animals, and the distant explosions of the never-ending fighting occurring several kilometers away. He was safe. Anakin was...

Anakin shuddered in his sleep, and his back arched as a scream was trapped in his breathless throat. Anakin scrabbled at his chest with one hand, while the mechanical one spasmed uncontrollably at his side. Obi-Wan only watched for a few seconds before he knelt beside him, trying to wake him up.

Anakin's eyes shocked open, glazed and staring off into the distant stars before he finally wheezed in a slow, shallow breath and focused on Obi-Wan's face. "Was I loud?" was all he said, his voice a soft, jagged whisper.

"No."

He seemed relieved at this, yet his eyes were fierce.

"Another dream... about your mother?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin took a moment to think about the question, before he shook his head. "No, not like that." He abruptly rolled over on his side, away from Obi-Wan. "The scouts will return soon. We should try to sleep."

"I would be asleep, Padawan," Obi-Wan said lightly, "except someone keeps kicking me."

Anakin didn't respond, not even to point out that he was a Knight now, and not a Padawan Learner. There was something troubling about his behavior, his dreams, but Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to talk about it now. Soon enough they would be amidst blaster fire once more. The war was enough to give even a hardened Jedi Master nightmares as the lifeforms screamed out their pain into the Force. Even at this distance, he could feel the weight of the fighting, the lives that even now were being extinguished. It was a wonder that someone as young and sensitive as Anakin could sleep at all.

Obi-Wan leaned near, squeezing Anakin's shoulder once, twice, in a battle-old signal of Okay. Then he laid back down beside Anakin and tried to sleep while he could.

***

Anakin laid awake, listening to Obi-Wan's meditative breathing, waiting for him to fall completely asleep. His own heart was still beating fast, his skin damp and cold. He couldn't shake off the dream.

'Fear is an ally. In your enemy, it is a weapon. In yourself, it is a source of power. Use that power.'

The voice from his dreams slid over his skin like septsilk: intimate, familiar, soothing. And cold. When he closed his eyes, the golden gaze appeared like twin suns.

For years, the dreams had come to him, a dark shape of charred and bloody flesh chasing after him. Ever since that fateful day on Naboo... At first, they were just childish nightmares, like the Tusken Raider under the bed--things he could dismiss in the morning. But as he grew in strength, so did the dreams. Ever since Shmi's death, they'd taken on a new tone. 'I am the Master you secretly want.'

Shadows and echoes. The dreams were only shadows and echoes, meaningless. The unnamed Sith Lord was dead, and the only truth in his dreams were visions of the future, not of a past that never existed.

But Anakin could not forget that voice, those lessons. They came to him during the day, in the middle of fighting, when he would try to meditate, when it came to be his time to lead.

And worst of all, he could not forget the emotions, the taste, the feel of those dreams. The deadly creature who had murdered Qui-Gon Jinn and was destroyed by Anakin's own master haunted him when he was awake, and ruled him in his sleep. At times, he couldn't be sure if what he did was from his Jedi training, or from the dreams.

At times, he wondered whether it mattered, once the deed was done.

Only one Jedi had ever mastered the seventh form. With mastery came great power. Did it matter how he learned, if he found a way to defeat the threats against the Republic? If it brought peace?

Anakin listened to his master's calm breathing as it finally settled into a natural sleep rhythm. He tried to match his own to its song, but a different rhythm kept rising to his ears, drawing him away from his master. He closed his eyes, pretending that it was the distant booming of battle, but in his heart he knew better.

Heart and mind. Someday he would learn to make them agree.


End file.
